From my experience, I see
three levels of truth that can be found in all spiritual traditions. The
first is the level of history or "what actually happened." The second is
the level of myth. The third is how the first two layers map on to our own
psyche and experience. These three are interwoven in all religions.

Using the example of the Christian or Hebrew Bible, one can see that
for the past 150 years, academics have been going through the text
questioning its authenticity and validity. This is a bit like a little kid
dissecting a slug to see how it works and then becoming upset that the
slug can no longer move around or eat lettuce. The dissection of religion
takes away its true meaning. Does Cinderella become a useless story
because there might not have been an actual young woman named Cinderella?
No. It's a great story! And why do we keep telling it? Because it is
useful. Any of the thousands and thousands of tales repeated around living
rooms and camp fires are told because they are good stories. They convey
meaning that is useful to us.

Among these is the story of the Buddha's life. About 2,500 years ago in
a Nepalese kingdom, a male child was born and for various reasons left the
life of privilege and comfort in a royal household to become a wandering
mendicant.

Somewhere along the line, he had a profound experience of insight and
then proceeded for the rest of his life to wander as a yogi living on
whatever was offered from the benevolence of the local people. In
exchange, he would teach those who invited him to share what he had to
say. After eighty years, he passed away, having founded a religious order
of both women and men. Most historians would agree that something like
this happened.

On the mythological level, events happened in a much more glorious and
miraculous way. The Buddha's birth on the full moon of May occurred in an
environment of earthquakes, rainbows and celestial music. His mother gave
birth to him standing up. He walked and talked as soon as he was born. His
birth had been predicted to be that of an amazing person: either a world
conqueror or the greatest sage to walk the planet. Since his father, the
king, wanted his son to end up as a world conqueror, he made sure to keep
out of sight anything that would cause his child to incline towards the
religious life. The old, sick and deceased were hidden from him. Of
course, the prince eventually left the palace and saw these forbidden
sights, along with that of a wandering mendicant showing him the path he
would soon embark upon himself.

There are many wonderful and marvelous events in the Buddha's
historical and mythological lives. But the Buddha himself said that the
most wonderful and marvelous quality was that when a feeling arises in the
mind of the Tathagata, he knows this is a feeling arising. When a feeling
abides in the mind of the Tathagata, he knows this is a feeling abiding.
When a feeling fades away in the mind of the Tathagata, he knows this is a
feeling fading away. So too with thoughts and perceptions.

So why then are the Buddha's birth, death and enlightenment brought
together on one day? My own theory is that this points to the very
practice of meditation itself for perhaps there is something in our
experience of the moment that gathers together in a similar way, that
follows the same pattern on an internal and much-diminished scale. For
example, we notice a sensation in our body: our knee starts to ache. This
is equivalent to "the life of the Bodhisattva" before the enlightenment: a
sensation arises; it is born. There is a bit of happiness and a bit of
pain. Then the pain in our knee no longer comes and goes but begins to
dominate our perceptions -- "This hurts" -- and we struggle with it. This
is comparable to the Buddha becoming dissatisfied with life in the palace:
it is tedious, boring and burdensome. Perhaps then we remember some
spiritual instruction. In the life of the Buddha, this is the ripening of
spiritual virtues, or paramitas.When he saw sickness, old age and death,
followed by the religious seeker, those virtues ripened, and he said, "Ah
ha, that's the way!" In our own microcosm, we remember that we are
supposed to be paying attention to the pain in our knee, not just sitting
there wrestling with it, hating it, fearing it, resenting it. Perhaps we
have imagined it is bone cancer or a ripped cartilage. "Wait a minute," we
think. " I should be working with this instead of getting carried away!"
So that's the Buddha waking up to the problem of pain and seeking to do
something about it.

"All right," we may say, "this is a pain in my leg. I should get rid of
the pain by suppressing it and paying attention to the breath instead."
This is what the Buddha did in the beginning. He used his will to drive
out all that was unwanted in his mind, such as fear, thoughts and
emotions. Six years of suppression left the Buddha in a barren, intense
and collapsed state. Then in our meditation we remember the Middle Way.
Suppression is motivated by fear and hatred -- the thought " I want to get
rid of it." Instead, we should make friends with the pain. It is just a
feeling. All feelings arise and pass away. Just relax. This is the moment
of "enlightenment." The heart releases. The feeling of pain is still
there, but we let go of the tension around it, let go of the fear, let go
of negotiating. It just is what it is. In that moment we share the life of
the Buddha. The feeling in the leg may persist -- it may get a bit
stronger, disappear, come back, change and move around -- but it's no
longer a problem.

Eventually the pain goes away or the bell rings for the end of the
meditation. This is the "Parinibbana," the final Nibbana, the
passing of the Buddha. The object disappears. Even with just a thought or
a sound, there is a natural quality of pure bliss with its cessation.When
the chirping of birds or the hum of the refrigerator stops, there is a
feeling of relief. This is a micro- or nano-parinibbana. When the
condition ceases, we experience the bliss of the free mind. That bliss,
clarity and peacefulness has been there all along, but it was obscured by
the experience of grabbing the feeling, the hope, the fear or the
excitement. The pattern of the entire life of the Buddha thus charts the
process of our experience, if the heart is guided wisely, as it manifests
in a few seconds of meditation. The birth, enlightenment and Parinibbana
celebrated at Visakha Puja gather together in this way as a symbol of this
path of insight and true knowing that leads to the heart's release.